Hazard
by Ananke
Summary: Edited 'Any Dream Will Do'. Nancy Drew disappeared, and truths and a brotherhood were shaken to the core.
1. Prologue

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Author's Note: Hi, all. Thought I'd abandoned it? No such luck. ;) Chapter one is obviously reuploaded with editing. Chapters two, three, and four will follow this weekend.

Disclaimer: The Hardy Boy, Nancy Drew, and all related characters are property of Simon & Schuster along with the Stratemeyer Syndicate. No copyright infringement intended.

Warnings: The characters in this story are **adults** and will be written as such. Case files, Files, Super mysteries, On Campus…with edge. I'll try to stay true to the essence of what the characters and series are about, but subject matter and language may nonetheless be mature.

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_It was a dark night, full of dark blood carrying with it the river of rage that had brought him to this point…and the horror of it suddenly shone with the vivid clarity of strawberry blonde hair whipping across her pale face in the glare of fast approaching and unremitting headlights, and…_  
  
The nightmare never ended…at least, had never ended before. It played like a bad serialization, bouncing about his mind in circles, inescapable. It wasn't that he had slept restfully that made him wake up; eventually he had just become too tired to sleep and dream any longer.  
  
Nor was it the first time he had woken, just the first time without the dream invading reality and distorting everything. Once before he had come to in a panic, putting his hands around the throat of an attacker and only after a long minute realizing it was only some poor scared candy striper before going under again. Ever since, there had been restraints, and those he pulled against now.  
  
Stay awake, the young detective ordered himself. Let them know you're awake. Tell them…

_…she met his eyes briefly, shock reflected, before turning and stumbling further down the wet street, into the nearest maze of alleys._   
  
He couldn't speak; his throat felt so dry…there was a feeding tube, in his stomach. He had always dreaded feeding tubes. Call button. Wasn't there one on every hospital bed? Was he still in a hospital? It was too dark to tell.   
  
Trying to clear his mind, he raised weak but whole hands, scrubbing at his face with almost desperate demand. Nose, lips, eyes. Check. Call button. Wriggling free of the loosened restraints, he threw a hand out to feel at the bed railing, panic and lack of use making his aim reckless. The nearby table rolled away slightly, the food tray clattering completely off of it. Hospital, yes, it had to be.   
  
Everything was so loud, so empty. The echo lingered.

_For once in her life, Nancy Drew was miserably unprepared for battle; he could hear the unsteady tap-click of stilettos as she scrambled away in the dark._  
  
_Damn, he swore inwardly, apologizing to his mother in the same breath. But who was he fooling? He'd heard worse than a few miserable blasphemes. He had done worse than blasphemy. It had gotten him where he was, wherever it was.  
**  
Calm down.**_**   
  
**The memory of his brother's voice was one of the few things that seemed more solid than the nightmare. He had to find him.   
  
Where was everyone?!  
  
Gripping the sides of the bed, he struggled for bearing, teeth grinding as a wave of pain washed through his stomach. 

_Nancy__…_  
  
"_If you move the wrong way, you might kill yourself!"_  
  
That would be too bad, but not bad enough to make him stop. He had to tell someone. Where was everyone?   
  
Feet on the floor, touching cold tile…brother knew he hated wearing socks. Muttering a blessing, he gripped the cool metal of the bed foot, straightening and deliberately focusing his gaze on the door, on anything but himself. He was in pajamas. No hospital then. Care facility, old folk's home?  
  
_He had never felt older._  
  
"Neglectful people…" The door was heavier than he expected, or maybe he was just weaker. It took a full minute of wrangling to open it, and then the light blinded him. Utter darkness in the room…not as sterile or shabby as he had thought…was immediately replaced by the bright light of a corridor. Carpeted, wide, and convenient…no forehead bumps if you keeled over, he supposed.  
  
Holly and garland dangled in loops from corners and doors, he noticed, gripping the railing that led way down the hall, moving forward slow and with more impatience than he had ever thought possible. Singing seemed to be a ways off. So that was it…it was Christmas. The half lucid and workers were caroling. He was just suffocating in isolation.  
  
He saw the first familiar face a good minute later, edging around a corner to take in the celebration. There was a large family area, big tree, lots of rockers and…and he felt brief shame. A few of the wheelchairs held kids younger than he, kids barely out of diapers. What had convinced their families to dump them somewhere like that? Had they just been too much to handle?   
  
They never expected me to recover. They thought I would die a loon.  
  
_Seeing her almost brought him to his knees…_

The connection to his past was so painful, so welcome.  
  
_Focus. This is a job. You get help. You tell them what you know. You finish the case, before it finishes you._  
  
She stood before a fireplace, hair clipped up in a chic bun, smiling slightly at one of the kids she was standing near. Older, that was how he saw her, and felt a brief, horrible fear. How long had he been…out? She was so slim, so serious, so focused. Why was she even there? If he remembered right, he was in Bayport, at the home. They had done a few cases from here, he and his brother, or just brought flowers.  
  
He shoved the fear away and pushed forward, trying to shy around corners and walls, not wanting to scare anyone. He felt like a freak, creeping through nursing home halls in pajamas, with a tube trailing from his stomach.  
  
Two feet away…he could smell her perfume. Lilac. She was older, at least a little, or she had been terribly worried lately…little lines were beginning to dig into the corners of her mouth.

_The tap-click rhythm had stilled, he tapped on his penlight to find her crouched between stacks of crates, her eyes shut tight, lips taunt and chapped. He touched her, couldn't help it, reached out and touched a strand of the fine hair that had escaped the elegant twist._

_She leapt away, and then turned, blue eyes widening as far as he'd ever seen them. Speechless…she was never speechless for long._  
  
"Bess." The name came as if from a catalog, dusty and distant, it hurt to speak it. There was so much he wanted to ask. Why was she in Bayport? Why was she here? Why was she older? How much time had he lost? 

_"Why couldn't you just leave it alone?" Her voice found, __Nancy__ was shouting at him even as she stood kicking, face livid as her hair. "Do you know what you've all done…"_

_Her pale hands snaked out in an almost maternal gesture, hugging him to her, and he saw more than felt the needle jab his neck. Stumbling, he grabbed for leverage and shook, slamming her wrist against the brick building they struggled against until bone cracked and the syringe fell to the gravel. _

_He had never wanted to hurt her. She was one of the few people in the universe he simply never could understand, who drove him crazy, but he would never have dreamed of ever being put in a position to intentionally hurt her. _

_"Why?" She asked, one hand clutching his shoulder, the other angled oddly and limp. _

_"I'm going to help you, __Nan__."_

_"Kill me, you mean. You have no choice now, you know." The words were almost muffled as he stood shakily, and energy gone, she settled more or less into his grip. _

Had he killed Nancy?Uncertainty gnawing at his gut, Hardy scrubbed at his eyes, the sickly ivory walls doing kaleidoscopes around him. 

His target turned, a hand flying to her mouth. The room fell silent, a dozen stares both lucid and empty settling on him. **  
**  
"Bess, help me." He pleaded and sagged into shaking arms as a soft cry escaped her mouth.   
  
_And then there came darkness._


	2. One

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Disclaimer: The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, and all related characters are owned by the Stratemeyer Syndicate. No copyright infringement is intended.

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At times it seemed that Frank Hardy's entire existence lay slumbering and ready to disintegrate under a thin layer of misassumption. There were those who firmly believed that he loved his job, those who just knew he had found mutual satisfaction with his wife. Those who thought he still believed in God, or even only in man. Up until only hours ago, _he_ had even liked the assumed life he led.

Crumpling one more piece of paper in his hand, the twenty-eight year old owner and CEO of Hardy Boys Technology swallowed one more scream as he rose, shoving the squeaky old desk chair he'd kept since high school away from his garishly expensive desk. The paper, before being trash, had been a new letterhead design, and like all of them, a stabbing insult. 

Grabbing his briefcase, he headed to the main reception area, tapping on the secretary's desk and shoving the ball of pulp over her shoulder. "Do I look like _a_ boy, much less boy in _multiple_?"

Carefully mirthless eyes surveyed him as his assistant turned. "Been a long day, hasn't it, Mr. Hardy?"

"Yeah." Releasing a sigh, he headed for the entrance, glancing at his watch. "Go on and close the place when you finish up with that."

"I remember Christmas in New York as a lot more seasonal than Christmas in California." 

"Huh?" Propping the door open, he paused halfway out. 

"Your wife…I've seen at least a dozen calls go through your line unanswered this afternoon. You should skip the empty condo and try the airport instead."

"It probably wasn't anything urgent." The defense came automatically, his mind already on other things. "She just likes the phone. And anyhow, I probably can't reach her."

Plucked brows rose in feminine effrontery. "It's a week til Christmas. With very little respect, Frank, why are you in California acting like an old suit with nothing but money lining his sheets and his brain cavity instead of the intelligent, thoughtful, doting husband we both know you used to have the potential to be?"

He snapped his jaw shut after a long stare, brows furrowing. "I have a company!"

"So?" Standing, the blonde made her way to his side. "You design software. You fix technical glitches, and crummy small ones. Nobody has died yet because you spent a few days off the job. You don't deal in death any more, Frank. All you have to worry about is life, and you've managed to do a pretty lousy job with even that."

"You know what?" Jabbing a finger at her uplifted nose, he frowned. "I liked you a lot better before you took to being my psychiatrist, Ness."

His brother's former girlfriend clearly tried and failed to hide a grin. "Go home, Hardy. You might catch her. Kiss some snow for me."

Shaking his head wryly, he succumbed. "I still can't say no to you..."

"We know." A tongue darted out briefly as Vanessa returned to her desk. "That's why I say what she won't..."

"…and a merry Christmas to you and Phil as well." Letting the door slam shut, he forced a grin and jogged down the stairway to the car waiting patiently below. Always one step ahead of him, she'd even secured the transportation. "Let me guess…" He stuck his head through the open window between front and back. "LA International?"

"Mrs. Cohen had me stop by your residence to secure luggage from the housekeeper." His shaggy-haired young hippie of a driver affirmed. "You're stuck for it, Mr. Hardy."

Joe always warned me about marriage, he thought ruefully. Just not about the women peripherally involved. Swallowing the sobering memory, he shrugged off his suit jacket, rolling up the cuffs of his shirt. It had been one hell of a long winter.

---

"Bess, stop that." Tilting his head on the mound of pillows he propped against, Joe Hardy tried and failed to focus on the pacing ball of energy a few feet away.

His old friend slowed in her steps, eyes diving up to glance at a wall clock and immediately falling back to him. "It's midnight. You should be asleep."

"I was…for a while. How long, anyhow?" Shifting to prop up on an elbow, he sighed.

Rubbing at her forehead, Bess Marvin sat in a nearby wing chair, ankles crossed nervously. "I think I'll wait and tell you that when I'm sure you're up to…"

"This is me, Joe. I'm not going to die of a heart attack." He snapped, resettling his blankets. "And I doubt I'll ever want to go to sleep again now that I'm up, so you can probably forget about the coma part too."

She settled a faint frown on him. "Frank should be the one to bring you up to speed."

"Doesn't look like he's here, now does it?"

"That isn't my fault!" She retorted before standing again and pacing anew. "I left a message or two. I'm sure he'll be on his way here as soon as he knows you're awake…if he bothers to check his voice mail. He probably expected me to be on a plane back to LA by now."

"LA?" Staring thoughtfully, he took in the sleek style of dress and fitness. "You bought into that whole acting business like you always wanted?"

"Oh, I act a little." Wistfulness marred the worry briefly. "I'll never earn an Oscar. I've been doing more writing lately…indie screenplays, a magazine column or two."

"That's right; you took a couple of writing courses in River Heights." His brother had always shaken his head at the idea of pretty Bess Marvin looking away from her shopping bags and boyfriends long enough to put thought to paper, but Joe had always known there was something a little deeper in there, seen something…maybe what George and Nancy had always seen.

_Nancy__._

"Bess…" He began, mouth snapping shut as the door opened and one of his many doctors strode in. This one he hadn't begun to like yet, much less trust…too brainy and aloof. Kind of like Frank most days of the week.

"Your name is ah...Anet, is it?" Propping up on elbows and suppressing the first smile of the day, the younger Hardy squinted at the gold-plated name badge pinned to the crisp white lab jacket she wore. "Sounds..."

"I came to the States seven years ago when my husband transferred to medical school in New York City. I have since finished my own degree." The doctor flashed a white-toothed and very knowing smile at him. 

"Well, Doctor Mrs. Anet...when can I get out of here?" Falling back in frustration as both she and Bess pressed a hand on his arms to push him downward, he glared.

"All in good time, Mr. Hardy…there are tests to be run and counseling sessions to be attended." Turning, Anet began placing files and instruments back in her bag.

"I'm not crazy!"

"You were in a very near comatose state for an extended amount of time...after suffering extreme trauma. It would be foolish to expect no lingering psychological effects." She reprimanded with only a brief glance back.

"But..." Taking the opportunity to push Bess away and sit upright, he floundered for words, stung that his innate charm had failed before even beginning to succeed. "Do you know what they've been feeding me today? I want pizza."

"Joe!" His old friend cried, shooting him a silencing frown. "Aziza is right, and the diet is for your own good. Besides, the last thing anyone needs is you collapsing or going berserk in the middle of Prito's Pizza Parlor."

"Prito's Pizza Parlor?" Brow shooting up, he considered. "I have been under a while, haven't I?!"

"It's just going to take a little time to adjust." Bess responded quietly, grabbing his hand and squeezing. "We'll get you through."

Turning his head sharply to stare out the frost-edged window, he sighed. "If I take whatever tests you need and agree to counseling sessions later, do you think I could at least be home for Christmas, Doctor? What is it, a few days away?"

"I'm uncertain..." The golden-skinned resident began, brows drawing up.

"I think it would be better that way." Bess noted, releasing his hand and meeting the other woman's gaze. "It's a short drive to the hospital if anything happens, and Joe's brother is EMT trained. He'll be in good hands...family hands."

The doctor smiled brief surrender. "Allow me the opportunity to further converse with my associates and we will see, Mr. Hardy." Slipping out the door, she shut it quietly, and the lock latch echoed in the cool silence.

"Well…" His remaining companion rubbed her palms together. "I can promise you it's a lot warmer at home."

"Early corpse preparation..." He offered, wincing as she jerked visibly. "So I still tell lousy jokes."

"Don't worry, we've missed them." Smile returning, the blonde plumped his pillow and studied him. "You're still throwing out surprises, hmm? The last time you woke and then slipped back away the doctors placed your chances of coming around again at next to nil."

"I doubt the candy striper I tried to choke was sad." Watching as she began pacing, he took time to stare at detail. Despite the glitzy veneer, Bess wasn't just gaunt, she was exhausted, circles under her eyes, a twitch in her shoulders. They'd been in the same room together waiting on tests and doctors for most of the day and he hadn't seen the slightest trace of the bubbly young woman he'd known, flirted with…

She shook her head again, russet blonde strands falling across the darkness of her sweater. "She wasn't a candy striper…a reporter, a snoop for some newspaper out west."

"Oh. Are you sure she wasn't Brenda Carlton in disguise, after a story and a comatose but drop dead gorgeous guy and Hollywood starlet? I can see the tabloids now, 'Beautiful Bess pines by the bedside of her comatose lover…'"

A pale shadow of a giggle broke. "Thankfully, I'm not that famous, Joe. No, it wasn't Brenda, though she could have been an awfully likely protégé."

"I think I've missed that." Passing an arm over his eyes, Joe inhaled shakily.

"What?" Pulling a chair close to the bed and sitting, she leaned forward, blue eyes worried and misted. 

"Your laugh…even Brenda Carlton."

"And gorgeous foreign doctors, too, I guess?"

"Hey." Arm dropping, he offered an offended look. 

"I'm not fooled." A smile worked its way into her voice. "Underneath all that civilization and physical maturity lurks the old skirt chasing kid Joe…he was sleeping and resting up for the hunt...that's all."

"Maybe." He met her gaze head on. "But what happened to the old happy go lucky Bess I knew and…what happened to her, Marvin? What's she waiting on?"

"She grew up, Joe, like a lot of people." His old friend straightened, heading for the door. "I'm going to get one of the interns to help you shower while I go talk to Anet."

"Bess." Catching her wrist, the younger Hardy shook his head. "We have to talk soon."

"I know." Smoothing a strand of hair against his face, she smiled. "But we also have to take things one step at a time."

"One step at a time." He agreed softly, bitterly.

_The deceptively slim woman in his arms weighed him down, and he struggled through sleepiness to execute the simple function of walking. Vision blurring, Joe Hardy tightened his grip, trying to remember whether the needle had actually broken skin, wondering what she could have given him, and how the hell she had gotten it. He decided that he didn't like her stillness, silence; as if she'd been so convinced he would kill her she'd just gone ahead and died of fright. It was something he thought Nancy Drew might do, just to smack his ego._

_He shook her wrist and a vague moan echoed. Releasing the breath he barely realized he'd been holding, Hardy again moved forward with his cargo, one precious step at a time…_


	3. Two

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Disclaimer: The Hardy boys, Nancy Drew, and all related characters are property of the Stratemeyer Syndicate. No copyright infringement is intended.

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If anything disturbed Frank Hardy more than the idea of being back in Bayport, it was the way there. Memories. Eyes probing the expanse of turf and sea below, he only half filtered in the dialogue from up front.

"…and so I talked to your wife at the market a few days ago and she said that there's the potential for Hardy Boys Technology to close."

His head swiveled, attention caught. "Phil is looking into starting his own business in New York, and I'd naturally think Ness would go, but the company isn't in any danger. I can always find new blood."

Knowing eyes riveted on him from the small plane's cockpit mirror. "The way you always talked about it, it was always going to be a family business, a few friends."

"Yeah, well, that was before two of the Hardy triumvirate went off the deep end, one way or the other." Rolling his neck, the elder Hardy brother sighed. Maybe it was for the best. Fenton Hardy had recognized the possibilities of technological expansion but never actually been interested in it, and Joe…

His father's longtime pilot and family friend nodded, swiftly changing subjects. "Hawaii isn't off the deep end, Frank. Not compared to the squalls we get around here. Speaking of that, how are your folks? I heard about Fenton's stroke…"

"It was minor." Minor like the half dozen preceding it, with a major lurking around the corner. "You know how stubborn Dad is. He overexerted himself, but he'll recover. The doctors…and Mom…just thought it best if he didn't travel for a few months."

"And that's what it took to get you back here. Well, I'm glad to see you. Was beginning to think poor Ms. Marvin would be spending the holidays alone, bundled up by Joe's side. It can't be good for her, Frank, and you know as well as anyone else that Joe wouldn't want the fuss."

"I know." Irritation began to gnaw. "Believe me; she's going back to LA when I go. Sooner or later her agent will take out a warrant otherwise, accuse me of locking his sterling jewel in an attic somewhere."

Jack Wayne chuckled as he gently steered the small plane to a landing. The runway was private, one Frank had helped finance not months ago, and Jack had been remarkably unstubborn about accepting the money. Guilt money for not coming home enough, Frank mused. But then, maybe his father's old pilot had realized that much and offered the small absolution. 

A sleek red Boxster slowly made its way down the pavement, parking a few yards away.

Climbing down from the small plane and shouldering his carryall, Hardy swallowed his annoyance and tried for a genuine smile. "Thanks for picking me up from La Guardia, Jack. You can tab my account for the trouble."

"Account?" Wayne shrugged. "You don't have one. I don't charge family." Nodding goodbye, he ducked back into the plane and steered it gently towards the hanger.

Digging cold fingers out of his pockets, Frank smiled in bemusement, swinging open the sports car's passenger door and tossing his bag in the back before sliding in.

"You're lucky I went by the house after I left Joe." Bess informed him, flipping off the radio. "If I hadn't gotten your pickup message you'd be frozen by midnight. Am I noticing a double standard here, me taking time to check answering machines when you refuse to check voice mail?"

"I was going to call you from LA International, but the flight came up early and they don't allow cell phones in flight…" 

"And the many messages I sent earlier?"

"I turned off the volume on the phone and forgot to check for new messages. It was a busy day at the office; I shouldn't have closed the place at all…" Bending, he rummaged through the takeout bag on the passenger floorboard and retrieved a steaming cup of coffee. "Thank God."

"It's a new blend. Tony wanted someone to try it; he suspects everyone who lives in Bayport is immune to Chet's concoctions by now but he doesn't want to run the tourists off testing the theory…"

Inhaling, Frank wrinkled his nose. "So I'm the guinea pig."

"Welcome home." Pulling out onto the main road, Bess wrinkled her own nose. "At least he got over the vegetable obsession. I think this one has berries."

"Pretty good, actually." Placing the mug in a cup holder, he turned to take his companion in. Maybe Jack had been right. Exercise regimes had forged Bess Marvin into a quasi-Hollywood form, but that wasn't what worried him. She ate enough when she got hungry, enjoyed cooking too much to do otherwise. She just looked tired. "Have you been sleeping lately?"

"Three hours last night." She responded automatically, brows furrowed as she watched the road.

"Three hours?"

"And nearly eleven the night before…I'm fine. I'm touched by your sudden concern."

"Hey, what's that supposed to mea…" Head swiveling, the elder Hardy brother frowned, eyes focusing on dim points of light behind them. "Is that Jack's car?"

Her gaze flew up to the rearview. "No."

"Pull over and let me drive."

"Frank, we don't own the road. It's probably just some tourist from down south out enjoying the blizzard."

"Humor me." Unlatching his safety belt, he opened the door and bounded out and around to the drivers slide, coffee forgotten in the snow. She slid over, slamming the passenger's door shut. 

"They _are_ slowing. Maybe they're lost."

"If anyone wants to talk they can follow us into town." Locking both doors, he hit the clutch, smoothly pulling out ahead of the dark sedan.

"You're settling into that overt paranoia stage I never could stand with Nancy…"

"Wasn't she usually right?"

"I was trying to forget that part, but I guess so." Tightening her safety belt, the blonde half-turned to peer out the rear window. "Maybe you should dim the lights."

"So you did learn something from all that involuntary sleuthing…" Finger sliding around the light switch, he chanced a wry grimace up. 

Her head shook briefly, eyes lightening as they left the road to scan him. "Do you remember when I volunteered to finish Nancy's scoop at Wilder after she disappeared? Hannah and George were sorting out Nancy's things and there I sat at her desk, staring at this picture of her mom and dad with her she'd carried forever…and I was absolutely terrified, no idea what to write."

He remembered. She'd called not too long after he had received the news that his old friend…old flame if he chose not to delude himself…was missing. Only hours before Joe had been found unconscious. 

"The road, Bess, watch it. I asked you…" He frowned, speeding up slightly as the twin headlight beams drew closer. "I snapped, asked you what was so important to you about a ridiculous story when Nancy was missing."

"Yeah." Her smile tilted. "I think I hung up on you, I was fuming. And I wrote the article. It wasn't terribly good, but I learned a lot more from that article than anyone else did, I can tell you that." She swished her head impatiently, blonde tendrils drifting loose around her shoulders. "I realized I hadn't known Nancy half as well as I thought I had, hadn't really understood her, anymore than you understood me. And I also realized that I couldn't pretend it didn't matter. I was tired of wasting time, time I should have been using to get to know the people I cared about most."

"And that reflects back on our current situation how?"

"I'm not going back to California with you. I have nothing there. I'm not famous…not famous enough. Oh, I know that's why you came, that and Vanessa's determination. You're welcome to spend the holidays here, Frank, it's your home…but it's my home now too, the safest place I've felt in a long time. And I'm not leaving Bayport or Joe, not now…"

"I don't feel particularly safe right now, so could we talk about it later?"

"If you insist." Slouching back down, she again stared out the back window. "Frank, they're tagging us."

"Hold on." Hitting the gas, he turned the wheel sharply, sending a cloud of snow into the air. The wheels shrieked against the pavement briefly and the sedan behind slowed slightly. "How far are we out of town…four, five miles?"

"We won't be able to hold them off that long." Her tones climbed towards panic.

"I don't think we'll have to." Noting their position, Frank slowed the car. "There's a little road up ahead I'm going to cut off on. It leads to a dead end."

Frosty blue eyes glared. "Is that your demented idea of a joke?"

"You know me better." Grinning slightly, he took a deep breath. "On one side of the road there's also a shallow ravine…four, five foot deep. The road leading into town is on the other side."

"Five foot…you call that shallow?" Voice muffled as she chewed on a strand of hair, Bess continued to glance between the rear window and driver.

"Sure. Joe and I rode dirt bikes over it when we were kids."

"You aren't going to try that with my new car, are you?" 

"Do you have any other ideas?" Tones grown terse, he craned his head to smile wryly.

"I knew I should have let you freeze." Sighing, she placed a hand over his briefly, eyes softening at the white of clenched knuckles on the steering wheel. "But since you're determined to make a grand re-entrance, I'm going to close my eyes. Just tell me when it's over."

"Hang on." Speeding up, he jerked to the right ever so slightly, the sedan moving up on their bumper. When the Boxster had rolled to a near stop he thumbed the driver's window down, leaning out as if to wave for help. 

"If they have a gun…" She began, eyes hurriedly reopening. 

"They won't be stupid enough to use it. They need an accident, not foul play." Gritting his teeth, Hardy held his breath as the passenger door of the other car opened. The young man that stepped out was of medium height, tawny skinned and lean. "Hi." Frank began genially, slowly moving a hand over to grip the slender, slightly trembling one on the seat beside him. "My wife and I appear to be low on gas. It might be better if you drove ahead of us in case we roll to a stop…"

Dark eyes surveyed him. "My girlfriend and I live only a mile off. If you would follow, we keep a supply of emergency fuel. It's not a night to be caught outside."

"Thanks." Closing the window as the man climbed back into the sedan, Frank whistled. "I don't recall a house a mile off, but as everyone keep pointing out, it's been a while…"

"There isn't a house a mile off." The color slowly returned to Bess' cheeks. "So what now?"

"Now we jump." Pressing the clutch again, he pulled back onto the road, cautiously eying the vehicle ahead of them. When the sedan had sped up, he hit the brake, turning sharply onto the trail that appeared scarce yards down. "And now they'll be coming back." 

"There's the ravine." Bess straightened, pointing to the snow bounded furrow. "Frank, I don't think you can get enough momentum…"

"Watch me." Swearing lightly as headlight beams flickered through the trees, he turned and backed into a clear area, stoking the motor. "That's why I told you to get this car."

The crack of colliding bumpers startled a faint scream out of his companion and Hardy floored the gas, tires squealing as they attempted to build traction. "Hold on!" He shouted, both hands rigid on the wheel, eyes riveted ahead. The ravine looked a hell of a lot deeper than he remembered, and it had been so long since he'd been in a scrape like this…

Rubber impacted fallen tree limbs, pine scraping against the windshield. Finally daring to release a breath, Frank pulled the sports car to a stop, glancing in the review mirror. The sedan had done a perfect nose-dive, stymied into the gulch. A vague chuckle rose despite the situation and he leaned over to kiss his companion. 

"Next time…" Bess crumpled the takeout bag in a palm, biting her lip, shoulders shaking as well. "Next time Jack flies you to the doorstep. Shouldn't we check to see if they're alive?"

"Find my cell phone. We'll call for help on the way back to town. There's no sense in risking getting stranded out here with a couple of college pranksters. They were probably exchange students…the winter weather drives them crazy if they've never experienced it before…"

"I think it's more serious than that." She bit her lip again, staring out the passenger window as he slowly pulled through a copse of trees and back onto the road.

"Is there something I should know?"

"Only what I was trying to tell you all along. Frank…Joe is awake."

_Joe is awake._

The elder Hardy brother sighed. It had suddenly gotten a lot colder.


	4. Three

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Disclaimer: The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, and all related characters belong to Simon and Schuster as well as the Stratemeyer Syndicate. No copyright infringement is intended.

---

The drive into Bayport was silent, and Frank Hardy pulled up to the nursing home uneventfully, cutting the engine and listening to the quiet snowfall briefly before opening the door. Finally stepping out of the rattled but steady Boxster, Frank drew a nervous breath and glanced at his companion over the roof. "I think I'll stay out here for a few minutes. The police said they'd contact us in the morning if they had questions, but I told them where we were headed. You never know." 

Bess shook her head, shrugging into her coat and sighing. "Okay, but just for a few minutes. Joe asked about you all day, Frank. He needs his brother. The questions can wait. I have to go do something with my hair before we go to his room anyhow. I'd scare him back into a coma after that ride…"

"You look beautiful. I'll follow in just a few minutes." He pledged obediently, feet grinding impatiently into the snow and eyes trailing as she hurried up the walkway and inside. 

Only seconds later a police cruiser pulled into the parking area, lights off, and a fit, graying older man stepped out.

"You're losing your touch, Con." Hardy said dryly. "Because I know my eyes aren't sharper. I spotted you the minute we left the station."

"Frank." The fit, well-aged police officer greeted, pausing just before the vehicle. "Just making sure you got home safely…and indulging a little curiosity too, I suppose. We were beginning to wonder if Bayport's prodigal would ever come home again."

"It wasn't my idea." Brushing the thin layer of snow dusting the hood, his companion shrugged his shoulders, hoping to ease the knots of tension. "But I suppose its good I'm here. I'm guessing you've already heard?"

"Despite Bess' best efforts, there was a bit of a leak from the home to the department. For now it's quiet, but eventually higher authorities will have to be notified. You realize that there's a very strong possibility that the Drew case will be reopened."

"It didn't take you long to bring it up, either, I see. Are you out here still on duty or skulking about unofficially, Con?"

The older man grabbed a shoulder, turning him abruptly. "I'm here as a family friend. And on that level, I'm hoping you intend to look into the case long before it ever reaches upper level. I can tell you, if Joe is questioned, there's the possibility that he could put himself under."

Frank whipped his head around, gaze locking on Bayport's chief. "Are you saying Joe is a suspect? Just what is it you think he did six years ago, arranged to be beaten into a coma?"

"Do you know why your brother was in New York the week he was injured?"

Wry amusement crossed a tired face. "Joe was on break from college, had just finished his junior year. I'd just graduated and reported to my news job. He decided to take a summer gig in the city."

"No details?"

"My little brother was very much into the entire independence thing at the time. We weren't hooked at the hip. I graduated to adult life and as a result Joe rather abruptly felt an urge to graduate from apron strings. He just said that he had a job. No details were offered."

"Well, we investigated. The place he took employment at was an underground nightspot, hotspot as well, I'm afraid. Some unsavory types are known to have hung around the place. Drug traffickers, gangsters, even your odd Assassin."

"So Joe could have been undercover…"

"That's always a possibility." Riley stomped his feet in an effort to get warm, eyes squinting. "He had a couple of misdemeanor violations early that summer here in Bayport. Then there was the small street fight…he clocked a CIA agent."

"You're kidding." Annoyed that his parents hadn't told him and faintly amused despite himself, Frank straightened up. "What was a CIA agent doing here in Bayport?"

"Not surprisingly, he wasn't willing to say. Of course, since he couldn't offer proof of official business I couldn't decently file charges. Joe got off with a warning and a couple of bruises. But I'd still like to know what they were arguing about. A couple of the witnesses made it sound like Joe was resisting being taken for questioning."

"If that was true it seems the agent would have tried a lot harder to have him booked. Unless what they were after dealt with subject matter too sensitive to lay open to outside authorities…" Rubbing his jaw, Hardy frowned. "So if Joe wasn't working for the CIA, he was either a rogue investigator or…"

"Among the investigated, yes." Con slapped the former sleuth on the shoulder. "Enjoy your Christmas at home, Frank. Let Joe reassert himself. The paperwork on this won't be moving until well after the new year, so you've got plenty of time to mull." The officer sighed. "I hope you'll look into it. I intend to give Joe every chance I can pull out of a hat. But others…strangers…won't do it, won't care."

"I know." Releasing his own sigh of frustration, Frank blew tufts of frosty air. "Thanks, Con. Some welcome back to town."

"I have a couple of rookies willing to stand guard at your home…or here, until he's released…off duty."

"Thanks, but no. He's a victim here. I don't want to smother him. If danger knocks, I'm pretty certain Joe has proven that he can take care of himself." Frank said pointedly.

Riley hesitated briefly before shaking his head and turning to walk back to the squad car. "To be brutally honest, that's what I'm afraid of." 

---

Somewhere down the hall the Christmas caroling had begun again, fresh festoons of garland and tinsel were decked about the corridors and his room, but despite the holiday mood and attentions of those around him, Joe Hardy had never felt so isolated in his life.

Wrapping the old, fuzzy robe Bess had brought by more tightly around himself, he yawned, the Christmas bulbs strung up just outside the window dancing blurrily. "You're not going back to sleep, Hardy." He muttered, slamming his jaw shut before a second yawn could escape and peering further out. His room overlooked the well-tended gardens and a corner of the parking lot. A shiny sports car sat alone, lights glowing dimly, a guy propped against the hood. Squinting, Hardy tried to place familiar stance, and then the man's head turned, a hand being chased through dark hair. 

_Frank._

His brother didn't seem in any particular hurry to come in out of the weather, but Joe desperately wanted a closer look. Tying the robe tightly, he stepped into house shoes and headed down the corridor, barreling past an orderly and two nurses. A receptionist stood as he passed through the main lobby but made no further movement, and the former detective was out on the porch before she thought to reach for the phone.

Frank had turned and was kneeling by the car, fingers being carefully run over the front left tire.

"Hey, big brother!" Despite all effort, Joe knew his voice wobbled precariously close to tears. Standing uncertainly a few feet away, he could only stare, doubts and fears racing through his head.

The dark-haired stranger stood hastily, drawing forward and then halting just as apprehensively. The differences time had made were subtle but immediately notable to someone who had known Frank Hardy so well for so long. The elder Hardy brother wasn't as athletically fit as he'd been, but looked comfortably healthy, if weary. A few premature strands of white peppered his temple and he wore tailored and clearly pricey clothing. He looked…grim. "Frank?"

"Christ, Joe!" His brother finally muttered, rushing forward and tackling him in a bear hug.

"Hey, hey, watch the stomach." Prying loose gingerly, Joe managed a lop-sided grin.

"Sorry." Frank backed up, a hand running across his mouth, shoulders crumpling. His eyes brimmed, and then flared with outrage. "Are you nuts, kid? What are you doing out here in this weather?"

"Well, you weren't inviting yourself in, were you?" Scolding fading, the patient let his older brother wrap an arm over his shoulder and lead the way back up the sidewalk and indoors. A swarm of orderlies and nurses parted to let Bess through, her eyes widened. 

"Joe Hardy! What were you thinking?! Do you know how I felt when I found your room empty?" 

"I get the general idea." Her target groused, eyes sparkling as the room cleared and Frank helped him onto a sofa. "So that's your ride? You're looking pretty snazzy now, Frank; though I hope you didn't junk the van, I'm sure it still had a lot left to offer…"

"Pretty shells hide strong souls sometimes, little brother." Frank told him, smile shifting slightly as he glanced over at Bess. She beamed back, sitting in a wing chair and watching them approvingly. "And the van has just been waiting for you."

"I'll hold you to that." Wrapping a palm over his brother's, Joe leaned forward to meet his gaze pleadingly. "Get me out of here tonight."

"Joe, Anet said…" Bess stood, crossing the short distance to sit beside him.

"I feel fine. The tests turned out normal, I'm not dizzy, and I can eat. There's nothing they can do here that I can't do at home. Please."

"He has a point." Frank admitted, trading glances with her over his brother's head. 

Marvin sighed, standing again. "I'll go talk to the doctor on duty. You two had might as well use the time wisely and catch up."

After a few moments of awkward silence, Joe accepted the glass of water a nurse offered before moving away, meeting eyes with his companion. "So, how's Vanessa these days?"

"Va…" Head shaking, Frank smiled. "Ness is fine. She works with me. Phil and I, that is. They're married, not that you'd want to know that right now…" Voice trailing doubtfully, he rubbed his hands together.

"I somehow think it'll take more than a broken heart to kill me." His fair-headed brother nodded at the slight gold band displayed on one of the rubbing hands. "And you're married?"

"Now that you mention it, for…must be nearly four years." Staring at his hand in vague surprise, Frank twirled the band.

"And is it any small coincidence that Bess has a matching band?"

"I'm a little surprised she hasn't melted it." His brother muttered. 

Joe laughed, slapping him on the back with pale imitation of former strength. "I've missed you. We've got a lot of catching up to do."

"And all night to do it…" Bess appeared before them, arms crossed. "…while I get some beauty sleep. Come on, boys. Let's get the two of you home."

There were no arguments.


	5. Four

---

Disclaimer: The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew and all related characters are the property of the Stratemeyer Syndicate. No copyright infringement is intended.

---

One of the least gratifying aspects of sleep Joe Hardy had ever found was the fact that the longer you did it, the less rested you felt. Sure, he'd always been tough to wake up, but that was only because it took so long to get to sleep in the first place. After an abrupt downfall and several years worth of napping…that was what Bess wanted to call it, anyhow…he felt plain nervous. The ride home was killing him. "Nothing looks familiar." He complained, crushing the pillow he'd been given to his chest and leaning forward to stare out the Boxster's front window.

"It's winter. There's snow. Everything's the same. I promise." Frank responded absently in the monotones he had apparently come to favor, fiddling with the heater switch and sending a blast of hot air through the car.

Bess glanced back, nails digging into her seatbelt strap, smile encouraging. "Not much has changed on the surface, anyhow. You'll adjust. I remember the first time I went home to River Heights in college, I was lost. It's batty how big a small town can become to the mind in absence."

"Sure the surface may be the same for now." He argued. "But the people on the face of it have clearly changed."

"Not everyone." She reassured. "And you'll find yourself a few new niches soon enough."

"Maybe I don't want a new niche. Maybe I want my life back, the old, simple one." Leaning back dejectedly, the younger Hardy swallowed another mouthful of shake. "I sound like Granddad."

"Actually, you sound like you." His brother interjected, rearview mirror reflecting the glint in his eye. "You're just making _me_ feel like Granddad."

"That's _very_ funny, Frank. But that's right; you are the one going prematurely white-headed, aren't you?"

"See?" Marvin's voice held cheer. "You two are arguing already. Things are getting back to normal."

"Stop stretching yourself thin, Marvin." Frank advised, steering gently into the drive of the old Hardy home. "Joe's right. Not everything can be like the old days again, and he's just going to have to get over the self-pitying stage and deal with it."

"I'm beginning to think you would be better off at the home." Leaning back to offer her opinion in a stage whisper, the blonde rolled her eyes ever so slightly. Joe buried a grin swiftly as his brother's eyes shot back up to the rearview mirror to stare back.

"I'm willing to drop you both back off there if you don't stop and let me drive." Frank grumbled.

"Everything seem a little unfamiliar, big brother?" Joe inquired innocently.

"Not at all, little brother." The answer came through gritted teeth. Making a swift turn, he parked, pointing at the old house before them. "See? We're home. I'll go ahead and unlock the door."

"There's no need, I've already taken care of it." Warm, cheerful tones came from around the corner of the gate dividing the Hardy yard from the neighbors.

"Callie?!" Both brothers chorused, Frank slamming his head on the car door as he hastily jumped out.

"Why, boys…" The chestnut headed woman drew to a stop a foot or so away, arms crossing critically. "What a sore sight. Sleep wear and suits. We girls have to work on your sense of Bayport style…and soon."

"Aw, Callie, it is you." Opening his arms as he climbed from the back seat, Joe engulfed her in a hug.

She laughed, a hand lingering on his arm fondly as they disentangled. "I stopped by earlier to open the house up. Con Riley called and mentioned you were on your way in. I thought I'd go on and turn on the heat, warm things, since Bess hasn't been around much the last couple of days to do it."

"That's thoughtful." Frank agreed uncertainly as Bess moved to his side. 

"Thank Con, not me." Dusting a sprinkling of snow from her nose, Shaw smiled slightly. "At any rate, I just wanted to welcome you back…both of you. I can't stay; Joel is going to come home any minute expecting dinner. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow, hmm?"

"Only if you bring Joel with you when you come." Bess made a face. "I need someone to bounce story ideas off of."

"It's a deal." Callie agreed, casting another smile over her shoulder as she trudged back towards the gate. 

"Come on, Frank, let's get him in." Bess nudged both brothers forward. 

"Joel…did she mean Joel as in Joel Tigue?" Frank asked as they stomped up the porch, shaking loose snow from their feet.

"Did she mean Joel Tigue as in Joel Tigue from high school?" Joe followed, making a face. "He was a jock."

"You were a jock." His brother noted uncharitably. "Bess?"

"He's a great guy." Bess threw off her jacket as they stepped into the warm foyer, throwing it over a hook on the wall and taking the home borrowed one Joe shucked as well. "Works for the Bayport paper as a part time investigative journalist. He also does stories for papers overseas. France…"

"The language of love." Joe mocked his brother.

"Callie and Joel have been married over five months, Frank." Bess reminded, ignoring the interplay between the two brothers. "You were invited to the wedding."

"And I would have come if I'd…"

"…if you hadn't forgotten to check for the message." She prompted.

"Yes, okay, maybe I missed it." Frank shrugged. "I'm happy for her…them. I think I'll go take a shower." Peeling off his wet shoes, the elder Hardy paced up the staircase, frowning.

"Well…" Bess placed a finger on her lower lip, smiling at her patient. "Welcome home, Joe."

"Thanks…I think."

"Oh, it isn't always like this. Frank's actually not such a bear most of the time. He's been overworked lately. Um…as you see, Callie is now your neighbor, and I'm pretty sure the rest of your old gang will pop in over the next few days."

"So Mom and Dad are in Hawaii now?" Walking slow circles around the rooms nearest, he glanced back. "I need to call them soon, don't I? And Aunt Gertie passed away…" A shaky hand settled on a picture frame, portrait of two boys and three adults, and the Hardy family was smiling…even Aunt Gertrude."

"I'm sorry, Joe." His old friend's head dipped down. "Frank and I are going to try and make this as easy a transition as possible, but there are things that have changed so much…"

"No. It's okay. I understand, really. So Hollywood starlets don't make very good housewives?" He teased. "Everything is kind of dusty." 

"I never claimed to be well-rounded." Lifting her head to glance in his direction, Bess smiled wryly. "Callie has stopped by once or twice to get the worst of the cobwebs, and I tried to clean as often as possible, but..." Her tones trailed as she followed him into the kitchen. "I was never much of a housekeeper to begin with, and I spent a lot of time at the home with you."

"I just never thought Frank would make such a messy tenant." Running a finger along a scarred table corner...brotherly bicycle crash, they'd been eight and seven years old respectively...he shook his head.

"He generally isn't." Straightening, she turned to offer an awkward smile. "Sorry. I really _was_ planning on a feast for you when you came home...I just wasn't expecting you today. If you don't want to wait, there are a few new takeout joints listed in the phone book..."

"No, it's all right. I'm not that hungry." Leaning into the corner, he crossed arms and let his brow furrow with suspicion. "Bess, he doesn't live here, does he?"

"Frank?" Hefting a bag of flour onto a counter, his old friend turned again, a hand resting on her hip. "He travels a lot for his business, Joe. And lately other projects have drawn his attention away from Bayport…"

"You were never very good at avoiding questions." He cut in. "Where is this tech company of his really based? Here or California? Where does he spend most of his time?"

A faintly upset smile creased her brow. "California, LA in fact. He…Frank wasn't doing too well after Nancy disappeared and you went into the home. He had his strong front, of course, but staying here, nursing you, was killing him. Mr. Drew and your father broke proverbial backs to get him resources to start his own company after the newspaper job failed. He didn't want to go. He didn't want to leave you…but somehow we convinced him. And after a few years out there…"

"He didn't want to come back. Is that why you had so much trouble contacting him?"

"Well, that and the general distraction that seems to come inherent with Frank." Laughing softly, she absently folded a dish rag. "He was afraid to come back. It's a completely different thing." Her smile faltered, eyes going distant. "Frank's only human, and if he lost his brother again, I'm not sure he would be even that. Don't let him lose you."

"Hey." Straightening uncomfortably, he flashed a grin. "Last time was luck. Besides, after I get another taste of your cooking, do you think I'm likely to feel like going back to a feeding tube any time soon?"

"Aha, my reputation precedes me." Brightening faintly, she lifted a spatula. "Having you back is going to ruin my diet, Joe Hardy."

"Don't worry, Marvin, I'll be sure to keep you on your toes." Squeezing her arm, Joe prepared to move off upstairs. Nearly barreling into his brother on the way up, he could only chuckle.

"What?" Frank demanded, jostling a cell phone with one hand while using a towel to scrub at his wet hair with the other.

"Just thinking about the most unlikely couple I've ever known." His brother said lightly, whistling as he shoved hands in his pockets and continued on.

"Joe!" A sharp bark brought the blond around, brow raised. Frank grinned, tossing the cell towards him. "It's Vanessa and Phil. Talk to another unlikely couple and alleviate their worries, huh?"

---

"That was mean." Glancing over her shoulder briefly as Frank entered the kitchen, Bess managed a disapproving frown. 

"Not entirely. He needs to talk to her, and Phil needs to talk to him."

"I'm just not sure that kind of pressure so soon will help him any…"

"Bess, he doesn't know the meaning of pressure yet." Reaching over her shoulder to grab a half sliced loaf of bread, he tore off a chunk and sat heavily in a nearby kitchen chair.

"Oh?" Throwing the paring knife she held down, his wife turned, arms crossed.

"Oh, right. In case you've forgotten, Joe was hurt in New York City the same week Nancy disappeared from Eloise Drew's. When two of the world's top detectives…well-acquainted friends at that…fall to foul play in the same place at the same time, questions are bound to eventually come up. Now that Joe is awake, and Nancy is still missing, he's in the hot seat."

"So? If anything, that would lead me to believe the same person who beat him up did something to Nancy. We know that Joe could never hurt her, or she him. The police may question him and he may eventually remember what led to his coma, but there's no reason to suspect he's responsible for Nancy's disappearance. Come on, Joe and Nancy…all of us, for that matter…probably could claim a lot of mutual enemies by now. Maybe he knows who did whatever it is they did to her, and we can bury this case and try to really move on. We have to at least try."

"I know." He admitted softly. "And I'd like to think we can, but I honestly don't know any longer. Con Riley made it sound like the authorities have something to incriminate Joe with, and Con doesn't take matters like this, matters involving those he cares about, lightly. I'm afraid this one may be beyond us."

"Well, we'll disprove them." She said firmly, moving across the room to touch his shoulder. "You're his brother. Frank Hardy…maybe not the Frank Hardy of then, but still Frank Hardy, still his brother…with the Hardy Boys back together again and a willing sidekick or two…hey, I'll call George…there's no one that can ever hurt Joe again. We won't let them." Her eyes narrowed. "Unless, of course, you actually think he did something to Nancy…"

The elder Hardy brother only smiled wanly. 

"Frank…" The blonde stepped away, shoulders squaring. "Sometimes no support is better than half-hearted support. Maybe you should have stayed in California."

"No." He countered with a snap, standing and dusting the crumbs from his shirt. "Maybe you should have. Who have you been married to the past four years, Joe or the other brother? His coma already took over our lives. I'm not going to let defending him when he's a big boy who can defend himself do it again. And if he can't defend himself…well, neither could Nancy. Maybe it's his due."

"I can't believe you." She accused quietly, eyes flashing.

"I don't know what _I_ can believe." Frank sighed. "I don't know what I believe anymore. Look, I'm sorry. You know I'll help Joe in every way I can. It's just…this is going to get a lot harder before it gets better."

---


	6. Five

---

Author's Note: Sorry for the wait. Next couple of chapters will be up in a couple of days. And thank for the added reviews. Now that I know someone is actually reading and enjoying, I'll happily continue.

Disclaimer: The Hardy Boys, Nancy Drew, and all related characters owned by the Stratemeyer Syndicate. No copyright infringement intended.

---

Gripping his brother's cell phone in one hand, Joe Hardy lightly touched the door to his old room with the other, hesitating before turning the knob. His parents' room hadn't looked a bit different than he remembered, and Aunt Gertrude's was the one Frank and Bess claimed now, so he hadn't even looked. But this was a childhood haunt, and more a nerve wracking target. 

"Are you going to stare at the notches in the wood all day or go in?" Frank asked gruffly from behind, slipping the cell phone out of his brother's hand. Grabbing the knob as Joe released it, he stepped in. "It's pretty much the same. I'll move the rest of my stuff up to the attic in a couple of days so you can make the space your own."

"You don't have to. I kinda got used to having your stuff in my way." Swinging open a closet door, the younger Hardy offered an embarrassed smile. "Okay, maybe the clothes. I think Bess will get a shopping trip in before Christmas. I've probably dropped a couple of sizes."

"I think you're more my old size." His brother agreed easily. "So wear some of my old stuff. It isn't that out-dated, and it's not like you'll be going anywhere beyond the hospital. You can't exactly play hooky forever. There is the matter of having the feeding tube removed."

"I know you didn't have to bring me home so soon, and believe me I appreciate it." Joe shuddered briefly in remembrance of the nursing home. He was sure it was a great place, but just not his kind of place. "But if I'm in the way…"

"I've gotten used to it." Tones dipping abruptly from banter to terseness, Frank sat on the edge of one of the beds, hands twisting the braided throw over it absently. "Before Bess finishes dinner…before everyone else steals your time…I think we need to talk."

"Probably so." Settling on the other bed, Joe Hardy studied his older brother. "How did you manage it?"

"How did I manage what?"

"How did you manage landing a girl like Bess? I mean, she was just never into you, Frank. She had the attention span of a gnat back then, and you were Mr. _Scientific American_. She liked you as a friend, but extended conversation with you made her eyes glaze. How did you convince her to do the 'until death do us part' thing?"

Maybe it wasn't exactly a fair summary, he realized almost immediately. Bess had been in an accident with her boyfriend during her freshman year at Wilder and the man had died. She'd been devastated, and the Bess Marvin they'd known hadn't been evident at all when he and Frank had made a condolence visit to River Heights. But still, she _had_ seemed to change back to her old self as the wounds faded. But it would be foolish to assume all the scars were superficial, he thought grimly, remembering Iola Morton with a brief, aching pain. He'd lost his heart before as well. And nothing had ever really been the same since. It hadn't even been right with Vanessa on so many of the important levels. Maybe she and Phil were better suited after all…she had sounded _happy_ on the phone. He missed the feeling.

Frank chuckled, drawing his brother's attention again. The elder Hardy ran a hand through still damp hair. "That may have had something to do with it. You see, I took on just a couple of cases after…well, after. One of them involved the Addison brothers. You know, Cole and Cooper…"

"Yeah." A smile rose despite. On one of the numerous cases they'd solved together, the Hardy's had teamed up with Nancy and Bess to play two married couples. Bess and he had been stuck together, maybe not so wisely, and Frank and Nancy…he frowned. "The mystery only involved Cole Addison and his sister-and-law?"

"Nikki and Rebecca never existed, remember. The entire case was a joke on us." Frank pointed out. "But as it turned out, the very real Cole Addison remembered the call I made to him while we were in Egypt. A few years later when he did decide to get married, she was a blonde. And they both needed decoys. By then Callie and I had already broken up and weren't exactly on speaking terms, much less in the same town. I didn't want to work with a stranger, and I…well, I owed Bess for some previous misconceptions. She was an obvious choice. She knew the case."

"I guess so." Standing, Joe smiled slightly. 

"It was the longest case I'd ever done…" Frank frowned. "And it was very nearly the last one. Bess and I were undercover and connected at the hip for over two months. You'd think we'd have forgotten how not to be together by the time it was over." He skipped a beat, and then sighed wistfully. "I suppose we just made a mistake thinking time put in playing a married couple could equate to happiness once we were back to being ourselves. We bought into the game, and it ended."

"You make it sound as if it's already over. That's not you, Frank, not after nearly four years. You're not the type of person who gives up on something that means so much to you."

"Not everything can be like the old days again." His brother repeated, standing as well and moving towards the door. "We'll talk about what I came for later."

Joe swallowed his own sigh. Whatever brief connection he'd finally felt with is older brother again was fading fast. Maybe he just _wasn't the same guy._

"Dinner should be ready soon." The target of his ruminations said from the doorway. "But you've got time for a shower. Just take whatever you want to wear." 

"Okay." Forcing a smile, Joe headed for the closets, tugging out an old team shirt and pair of running shorts from Frank's area. Throwing them on the bed, he hesitated once more before lifting the telephone off the nightstand and digging in his robe pocket. He'd jotted down the link to Hawaii downstairs.

Waiting for the connection was hell.

"Hardy residence." A slow, careful voice finally responded from the other end of the connection, a distance that might as well have been the other end of the world.

_Dad_…Joe gripped the phone receiver more tightly. "This is the Hardy residence too."

A long moment of silence stood between them, and the younger man shifted restlessly, worry gnawing at his gut. Maybe he shouldn't have surprised the old man. "Dad…" he prompted.

"Joseph, is that you?" Fenton Hardy's voice held momentary steel, all signs of grogginess gone.

"Yeah, Dad, it's me." Relief flooding his entire body, Joe sat on the edge of the bed. "I bet you never expected to hear from your favorite son again…"

With an abrupt click, the call was terminated.

Joe threw the phone off the table and halfway across the room.

---

Head cocking to take in the second muffled thud in as many minutes from upstairs, Bess dropped her spatula. "Frank, do you think we should check on Joe…"

"Joe's fine." Forcefully cheerful tones descended the staircase. Joe slipped into a chair at the dining table beside his brother, tugging his fresh shirt down. "Just clumsy…so what's for dinner?"

"Spaghetti…it's my own special blend." Bess informed him, sliding a platter of garlic bread and sauce onto the table beside the rest of the meal before taking her seat. 

"So…" The younger Hardy fought to find a topic of conversation to break the hovering silence.  Frank rustled his newspaper, head ducking further behind its print. 

"Frank." Bess' tones escaped behind his self-imposed wall with a trace of annoyance. "The food is served."

"Okay, okay." Making a show of carefully folding and tucking the reading material, Frank stared at them. 

"So…" Joe inserted again, even more loudly. His glare reflected shared annoyance with his old friend. "Frank, you lost that newspaper job you were so proud of?"

"Actually, that was the second case I mentioned." Frank measured his tones and took a bite from his bread, brows furrowing in remembered pride and amusement. "I was assigned to write up on a financial scam at one of the New York brokerage firms. It ended up that our chief reporter's daddy was dipping into the game, and she knew but didn't tell. It wasn't considered cultured for a first year intern to go and ruin a star writer's reputation like that. I was welcomed to leave."

"But you had to have a zillion other papers asking." His brother said skeptically.

"There were a few. Our sleuthing didn't hurt my credentials as an investigative journalist. But I was already tired of it by then. I couldn't see myself thirty years old globe trotting to unmask wrongs…it had already taken too much of me, too much from me. And it wasn't fun going the way alone. I couldn't expect Bess to replace you. It wouldn't have been fair to either of us."

"Actually, there was more. My agent threatened disembowelment if Frank dragged me to the ends of the earth and risked marring my lovely profile again." Bess teased, clearly attempting to lighten the move. "That Addison case he said he told you about earned me a free nose job. Of course, the reconstructive one was the hefty bill we had to foot. Frank had to take a tech job just to save a poor actress from being ruined."

"Wow." Sounding impressed, Joe focused his gaze on the pert nose lifted before him. "Never would have noticed."

"That's the idea." Frank pointed out humorously. "You shouldn't be able to, considering the cost..." The sharp trill of the cell phone interrupted and he stood hastily, grabbing it from the table and moving towards the living area with a mumbled apology.

"It's strange how he only answers that thing when it isn't me." Bess observed ruefully, elbow propping on the table as she stared after her husband.

"I'm sure that's not true." Stirring his pasta around, Joe offered a weak grin. 

"So, did you call your parents?" She inquired, brushing the melancholy off and returning her gaze to him.

"I got static. I'll try again later." Shrugging lightly, he swallowed a mouthful. "But speaking of which, I've been meaning to ask how George is these days."

"Oh, George is fine." Bess perked up immediately at the mention of her favorite cousin. "She works as a nutritionist and physical therapist in Hawaii. You know those surfers. And she's been helping your father, that's one of the reasons they moved there…but this winter she took a job at one of the Rocky Mountain ski lodges. I talked to her earlier. She's going to try to be here for Christmas and start you in on a therapy regime."

"Great. Wish I hadn't asked." Grimacing dramatically, he pushed his plate away as Frank reentered the room. 

Bess laughed briefly, expression sobering at the elder brother's grim look. "Who was it?"

"Riley." Frank said tersely, declining to sit again. "Someone tipped off the press. The news that Joe is awake will be all over by tomorrow. Christmas won't be quiet. Bess, see if you can contact his doctor and schedule the tube removal for the next couple of days, he'll be out of their range while recuperating..."

"Hey…" Joe stood as well in protest. "I'm not going back to a hospital or wherever right now. I just got home. So a few reporters will show up…I'm not afraid of a little press. I don't see why I should be. Surely guys wake up from comas almost every day…"

"Not guys like you, Joe." His brother lashed out. Visibly forcing calm, he pulled a hastily jotted note out of his pocket. "It isn't just the press you have to worry about. Riley received a fax of this note a few minutes ago. It came in about the same time the press leak left the department…its tomorrow's headline for the River Heights area. And it's going to blow the publicity for and investigation into Nancy's disappearance wide open again. The authorities won't have a choice but to pursue."

Taking the scrap of paper and reading carefully, Joe winced. Glancing over his shoulder, Bess gasped. The meaning was blunt.

**_Drew murderer awakens; faces arrest._**

Slowly crumbling the paper, Joe Hardy drew up to his full height and stared at his older brother. "Forget it." He said quietly, coolly. "If anyone…press or police…thinks they can prove I did _that _to Nancy, they're welcome to try." Anger draining from his voice, he smiled wryly. "For all I know, they might even succeed."


	7. Six

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Disclaimer: The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew are the property of Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Syndicate. No copyright infringement intended.

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"Well, so much for the nice cheery 'welcome home' I've been trying for." Bess said bitterly as Joe tossed the crushed ball of paper to the floor and stomped back upstairs. Glowering at her husband, she headed back into the other room and began tossing the contents of half emptied plates into the disposal. 

"Explosions like that aren't exactly going to help him any." Frank noted with his own tones of frustration, leaning back against the table as she cleared it.

"What do expect, Frank?" Slamming the dishrag she held down, Marvin stared at him. "In only a day or so he's gone from a patient, a victim, to the next America's Most Wanted…and for all the support you've shown, you might as well have put up the bulletin yourself. At least he doesn't mince his feelings…you've been the epitome of enigma. Do you think he did it? Do you care enough to prove that he didn't? Is there anything remotely relate to brotherly love, simple loyalty still flitting about up there between your ears?"

"Loyalty?" He practically yelled, straightening and only barely managing to lower his voice. "You may be right. Maybe I haven't exactly rolled out the welcome wagon. Look, I don't even want to be here. But I'm trying. I want to get to the bottom of this, whether Joe is innocent or not. He hasn't even addressed the issue. It makes him look just a little guilty when his next pizza binge is apparently more important than explaining what happened with Nancy that night. He hasn't even mentioned her name."

"Neither had you until he woke up, but it's funny, I somehow get the impression you've thought about her every minute of every day since she disappeared. You're just too…too proud to let anyone in on your grief. So instead we get your misery." Eyes brimming, she turned away, running a hand through already disheveled hair. 

"Bess…" The elder Hardy brother began quietly; temper fading as fast as it had rose. Moving a few paces, he wrapped both arms around her waist. "I'm sorry."

"No." Wry amusement in her voice, his wife and old friend stiffened and stepped out of reach. "I'm tired of hearing that particular lie. At any rate, it isn't me you owe anything to. I knew exactly who I was marrying and exactly what ghost was over your shoulder. But Joe deserves more. It isn't about his innocence or what he did or didn't do to Nancy. It's about what it's done to him. He's hurting. You're his big brother, the only one who can fix it. He needs you more than anyone else ever has. How can you expect him to talk about it…to even broach it…when all he sees is your cold shoulder for reception?"

"If I am the chief of sinners, I am the chief of sufferers also…" Frank said softly, arms dropping to his side.

"What?" Sitting in a dining chair, Bess rubbed her temples with a frown.

"_The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_…it was the only book Joe ever read twice." Sighing slightly, he reached for the hooks nailed up near the door and grabbed his coat.

"I think the library is closed." She muttered sarcastically, crossing her arms and staring past him at the clock dolefully. "And so much for my beauty sleep."

"I know, sorry." He offered a wry smile. "You're right. I can't expect Joe to just spill everything. He needs time to adjust. I'll leave him alone for the night."

"That's awfully generous." She agreed, blue eyes blinking. "But what exactly does that have to do with leaving the house past dark on a snowy December night?"

"I'm going to talk to Con down at the station, see if I can get an idea of what it is they plan to hold over Joe's head. Once the press breaks in the morning things will heat up. I'd rather be a step ahead of the crowd." 

"All right." She considered his plan, standing and moving to lift her own jacket. "But I go with you. I'll go stir crazy here."

"Someone needs to be here to keep a look out." Frank protested. "Joe could try to leave or some nutcase reporter could sneak up."

"I'll call Callie. I can't imagine she's getting any more sleep than we are." Moving towards the wall phone, Bess shook her head. "The only reporter you'll have to worry about then is Joel."

"I'm not encouraged." 

"You aren't funny, Frank." Turning away, she spoke quietly into the phone as he wandered back to the bottom of the staircase and peered up. Though the upstairs hall was typically dark, a thin sliver of light escaped from under the doorway of his old room…Joe's old room.

"Joe." He shouted up. "We're going out. Callie is coming over."

The stereo volume climbed several notches in angry acknowledgement. He wouldn't do that if Mom or Dad were here, the elder brother thought, grim amusement quickly trailed by bereft loneliness. 

"Frank." Bess stepped out of the kitchen, wrapping a scarf around her neck. "She's on her way. He'll be fine."

"I guess so." Holding the front door open as she ducked through, he headed for the parked car and hurriedly unlocked the doors, sliding into the driver's seat as her hook her safety belt. 

Earlier pretensions aside, there was no denying that Bayport held a strange aura of disconnection. It could have been just the snow and the garish holiday lights…but everything seemed remote and unfamiliar, even the haunts nearest to childhood memory. He wondered briefly if it was how Joe had seen it all on the drive home, and felt more than slight guilt at his snappish dismissal. Sternly pushing the trace thoughts away, he clenched hands more tightly around the steering wheel and glanced over to his passenger. "Speaking of the unspeakable Nancy…I don't suppose there's anything you can offer to give a little insight into why she was in New York then? Something to put her actions into perspective, make things make a little more sense?"

Bess shook her head, eyes straying out the front window. "Whatever you'd recognize in Nancy by way of common sense was gone the instant we went to Wilder, Frank. I mean, she broke it off with Ned almost immediately, and became obsessed with keeping her father away from Avery Fallon. The first couple of years it was just typical stuff, the jealousy I guess we thought would be normal for someone adjusting to a new life on her own, someone who had never shared her father with anyone. But by our junior year Nancy was a mess of contradiction, a near stranger. She wanted everyone to forget she'd ever been Nancy Drew, girl detective, but she couldn't resist playing investigator and using the paper she worked for as a venue. She wanted to forget River Heights and all the history it entailed, but her dead mother suddenly became the center of her life. She...she felt that her father had more or less abandoned Mrs. Drew's memory. So she picked up what he dropped. She wanted to know everything…Sahra Drew's favorite song, her daily routine…but most of all Nancy wanted to know more about what killed her mother."

"I remember Dad mentioning it. Sahra suffered a fatal heart attack, right?" Frank interrupted. "That's got to be legal record, autopsy."

"Yes, it was a heart attack. But it was a drug-induced heart attack. The official cause of death was an accidental overdose. The last thing Nancy was willing to believe was that her mother was some common addict, so she did what she did best and investigated. As it turned out, Sahra Austin Drew was a college senior...she'd started taking classes when pregnant with Nancy... and an intern for the River Heights Chronicle the year she died. And, like her daughter, she was probably a little too nosy for her own good." Bess shook her head, wry sadness reflecting in her eyes. "Mrs. Drew was apparently investigating the drug ecstasy, the corruption and drug smuggling that was going through the banks and even certain aspects of the CIA."

"I thought ecstasy wasn't banned until at least the mid 80's." Frank frowned.

"1985, according to Nancy's research. In 1981 her mother was running an investigation into whether it should be made illegal and using other, already illegal drugs as reference. She was particularly interested in those being siphoned from the east, Egypt and the likes, having eastern blood. It turned out that a few hands were sticky, and she flushed the local federal office out pretty good, even wrote a prize-winning article for the Chronicle arguing for anti-drug laws. It wasn't much of a victory. She never lived to see a law passed, was found on the floor of the Drew home suffering the overdose just a few days after the case ended."

"That doesn't sound like much of an accident." He straightened, blinking as bright headlights swept by. "I can't believe it wouldn't have been investigated as a possible homicide."

Bess straightened as well, her tones darkening. "Nancy tried to ask her father about it, but he simply said he urged that they drop the case in order to protect Sahra's daughter. He thought it was what she would have wanted. And I just don't think he's ever wanted to believe that the government could have been deliberately responsible. He's an idealist in many ways."

"Maybe it wasn't the government. There had to have been a lot of people cashiered out of the services when private connections to the drug trading came out. If we could pin down the names of those Mrs. Drew brought into the spotlight..."

"Hey." Placing a hand on her arms, she smiled and caught his gaze. "Which case are we solving here, a three decade old murder or Joe's little problem?"

"If I can prove a connection, hopefully both." Settling his focus back on the road, Frank lifted a brow. "Do you know of a connection?"

"Frank, you can't be serious. Not every case _is_ connected." She reminded with faint exasperation. "Look, I just told you that much to give a little insight into Nancy's mindset at the time. Let me finish. Near the middle of our senior year a string of GHB date rapes broke on campus. Nancy got this brilliant idea to be a decoy, hang out at one of the campus clubs and wait for the stalker to offer a drink, with George and I as backup. It worked, turned out to be a resident who worked with the local hospital and moonlighted at the campus clinic. It took a little longer than we expected for the police to arrive, though, so Nancy had to keep up the charade…she took a few shots of the stuff, spent all night in the hospital having her stomach pumped. We thought it was over…until Nancy appeared on George's doorstep a week before graduation a solid mess. Her contact had failed, and she was in withdrawal. She'd become addicted to the drug, and no one had even noticed…usually the addictive threshold is much higher. She didn't want to miss the graduation, so we had a pre med friend wrangle out some semi-legal substitute. Nancy promised to check into rehab as soon as the celebrations were over. I just assumed that was why she went to New York."

"Joe said Nancy told him that she'd 'found her mother' at the hotspot he was working with." Frank tried to fit the puzzle together mentally, perplexed. "So she was taking the GHB again…it causes hallucinations." 

"Unless she wasn't hallucinating…when under the drug she was in control, Frank. We weren't as close to her as we'd been back home, but still George and I should have noticed something, anything, but…she was the same Nancy. She was in control. Maybe what she said to Joe wasn't meant to be literally…maybe she was trying to tell Joe something important."

"But what?" Scratching at the stubble on his face, the elder Hardy frowned. "What reference about her mother would possibly mean anything to him?"

Bess only shrugged, releasing the seat belt catch as they pulled up to the Bayport precinct. "That's for Joe to know."

Frank Hardy mentally cursed ever meeting Nancy Drew one last time, before squaring aching shoulders and following his wife into the unfriendly local domicile of government justice.  

_And if Joe knew…_


End file.
